


his heart, all flaming and thorny

by stuffy_j



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Canon Universe, Gabriel goes Reaper-y for the first time, Graphic Description of Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Unhappy Ending, Lack of Communication, M/M, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes-centric, Sort Of, if you know canon at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffy_j/pseuds/stuffy_j
Summary: Maybe all he needed was a shower and a decent night’s sleep, wrapped up in Jack’s arms for the first time in two weeks. Maybe that would make this goddamn headache go away for the first time in four days, would calm the heated, writhing feeling that seemed to sink down into his bones. Maybe he just needed Jack.Gabriel breaks down.Written for day 3 of Reaper76 Week 2019: "Under Pressure."





	his heart, all flaming and thorny

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Nick Flynn's poem, "Emptying Town." It's amazing, please read it if you get the chance.
> 
> (Ignore the fact that this is like. A month late lol)

Gabriel had a pounding headache and what felt like an entire mountain’s worth of dirt underneath his fingernails as he stepped off the ORCA. McCree and Genji immediately slipped away into the shadows of the hangar, and Gabriel let them. He didn’t want to deal with them right now, anyway.

He could deal with the dirt. The headache, though… 

His comm unit pinged, and Gabriel glanced at it. A message from Moira, asking to see him tomorrow. Fine. He could do that. Maybe all he needed was a shower and a decent night’s sleep, wrapped up in Jack’s arms for the first time in two weeks. Maybe that would make this goddamn headache go away for the first time in four days, would calm the heated, writhing feeling that seemed to sink down into his bones. Maybe he just needed Jack.

“Will you let the Strike Commander know I’m back on base?” he asked a passing cadet, and they looked at him with a strange mix of regret and apprehension.

“The Strike Commander is currently in Tokyo for the summit,” they said apologetically. “He’ll probably be back sometime tomorrow, depending on how negotiations are proceeding.”

Gabriel clenched his fists hard enough that he could feel the fingernails cutting into his palm. Fuck. He’d completely forgotten about the goddamn summit. Mostly because he thought he’d _be_ there with Jack, but then this mission had been fucked all to hell and back and gone on a week and a half longer than expected. And they’d been blackout, which meant Jack was probably worrying himself sick, because that was what Jack _did_. 

“Right,” he gritted out, and nodded a dismissal at the cadet. “Thank you. I’ll send him a message myself.” His headache pounded behind his eyes, and he clenched them shut for a moment. Okay, so no Jack tonight. Just the shower would have to do, then. He could do that. He _had_ to do that. Tension ratcheted up between his shoulder blades, but he ignored it. Sleep. He just needed to sleep. And then Jack would be back, and the two of them could have a quiet night together for once. 

Repeating that mantra in his head, Gabriel moved steadily through the Watchpoint’s corridors, ignoring everyone who passed. If he acknowledged them, he’d probably break, and wouldn’t that just be a perfect ending to this fucked up day. Week. _Two_ weeks. God. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The lights seemed unnaturally bright in the hallway. Maybe they’d switched out the lightbulbs recently? Gabriel squinted against the harsh fluorescent lighting that threw everything into sharp relief, bright flashes exploding across his vision, and he stumbled a bit, going down on one knee for a moment. He bent his head, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to control his breathing, pathetically grateful that the hallway was deserted at the moment. “Fuck,” he panted, but pushed himself up and kept going. He wasn’t far from his room. Just had to get there.

Agony ripped through him just as he pushed his door open, and he fell through with a cry, landing hard on the floor as it felt like every bone and muscle was shredding itself inside him. His vision went black. His ears rang with anguished screams, but he couldn’t get enough air for it to be him, his throat squeezing in on itself, choking him. He felt himself clawing at the floor in desperation, his fingernails splitting, bleeding out in rivulets, collapsing in on himself, skin ripping as it couldn’t contain him anymore, oh god--

He was nothing but burning as he felt himself split open, fire and smoke pouring out of him as he writhed on the floor. This was worse than anything he’d ever felt -- worse than the numbing cold of the SEP injections as they’d coursed through his veins, worse than being riddled with bullets and feeling his skin knit itself back together within minutes. This was like being ripped apart, poured out on the floor, then set on fire and being remade from the smoke that wafted up. He couldn’t feel his heart anymore, his hands or his legs, his chest; they belonged to someone else now. There had been a name, once, but he couldn’t remember it. He was no one, now. 

He prayed for darkness, for the pain to stop and to be consumed by the oblivion of sleep, of unconsciousness, but he didn’t get it. He was nothing _but_ pain, a being of agony and teeth, twisted and broken as he sobbed and screamed but heard nothing. Just oblivion.

He wanted to faint. He wanted to die. He wanted _Jack_.

Jack.

He clung to that thought, clung to the image of Jack in his head -- those tired blue eyes, his command-gruff face melting into a smile just for him -- and clawed his way back through the darkness, back through the pain. _Jack_ , he thought, and the pain was still there, but so was his body, his hands curled so tight into his palms that he felt his fingernails drawing blood, his chest feeling like a hole had been ripped through it, like his ribs had sliced through his side. He thought of Jack’s laugh, the rough calluses of his palm, of the way Jack’s voice said his name--

_Gabe._

Gabriel opened his eyes, choking on his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. He coughed and rolled onto his side, and stared in horror at the blood that soaked the carpet beneath him, then looked down at himself. 

Nothing. No wounds, not even a scar.

Fumbling for his comm unit, he called Moira immediately.

***

“This is truly remarkable, Commander.”

Gabriel stared at his hands in horror, watching shadowy tendrils creep across his skin and down his arms, blackening his fingertips and billowing off him in slight waves. Moira’s cold hand rested on his shoulder, the tips of her fingernails digging in a little painfully. She was looking at a screen behind him. Gabriel couldn’t tear his eyes away from what was happening to his own body right in front of him. 

“Your cellular structure appears to be breaking itself down and regenerating at amazing speeds, though the regeneration may be resulting in the reabsorption of necrotic tissues. Additionally, this appears to be happening even down at the molecular level; certain strands within your DNA appear to be affected as well.”

“What does that mean,” Gabriel croaked. His throat felt scraped raw. 

“It means I will need to conduct further tests immediately,” Moira said, removing her hand and typing at her workstation. Her nails clacked excitedly against the keys.

“I have to tell Jack about this,” Gabriel realized, squeezing his eyes shut. Great. Just what the both of them needed, especially right after Jack had come home from a stressful summit. 

Moira whipped around and gripped his shoulder again. “Absolutely not! The Strike Commander cannot be informed of this; he could have you put on medical leave or, even worse, decommissioned. And Blackwatch is _just_ starting to make headway on a number of missions. It would be devastating to the organization if you were taken out. There could be possibly _fatal_ consequences.”

Gabriel stared at her, his brain tiredly trying to make sense of everything that was happening. He hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, _still_ hadn’t taken a shower, and he was apparently turning into a smoke monster before his own eyes. _Well_ , he thought, _I guess if my body turns into smoke right in front of Jack I won’t have to say anything anyway._

“Can you make it stop?” he said instead, dropping his hands to his lap.

Moira tapped her lower lip, pensive. “Not without further study,” she said, “But I may be able to apply a certain… stopgap remedy. For now, at least. Stopping it entirely may not even be possible, not if it’s rewriting your DNA.” She went over to the other side of her lab and began rifling through the contents of a freezer, pulling out a sterile syringe and a vial. “This should help. It will stabilize you for the short term, and in the meantime I will focus on coming up with a more viable solution.”

“Alright,” Gabriel nodded. Moira carefully filled the syringe, then placed it against his bicep, pushing the plunger down slowly. Ice swirled through his veins, and Gabriel clenched his teeth, trying not to shudder under her hands. Showing weakness in front of Moira was… ill-advised.

She began unsticking the electrode ends from his body, and Gabriel took that as a sign that it was time to leave. Shrugging his shirt back on, he turned to her. “Did you have someone clean up the blood in my room?” he asked.

Moira looked at him strangely. “Commander, there was no blood in your room.”

He blinked. “Right,” he said, hollow, and turned again to walk out of the lab. “My mistake.”

He didn’t remember the walk to his room, but suddenly he was standing in front of the door. He paused, took a deep breath. Pushed it open.

There was no blood on the floor.

***

The door opened and the light flicked on. Gabriel groaned and rolled over on the bed, and the light immediately switched off again. 

“Shit, sorry Gabe,” he heard Jack say, and then Jack was crossing the room, shedding layers as he went, and crawling into bed to curl up next to Gabriel, laying his head on his chest. He smelled like travel.

“I missed you,” he whispered into Gabriel’s chest, and Gabriel wrapped an arm around him, sighing.

“I missed you, too.” He stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “Sorry the mission went longer than expected.”

“That’s okay. I’m surprised you didn’t come meet me, though.”

Gabriel was silent. He hadn’t even realized Jack was back. His comm unit was off, laying on the nightstand from when he’d put it there after Moira. She’d been right about whatever she’d given him. He wasn’t smoky and in pain anymore. But it hadn’t fixed him -- he could feel the… whatever it was thrumming deep under his skin. In the marrow of his bones. He was a little surprised Jack couldn’t feel it, too.

“Sorry,” he said.

Jack shifted beside him and let out a sigh. Gabriel could feel him relaxing in his arms, letting off the stress from the summit. His heart tightened in his chest. Moira was right; he couldn’t tell Jack about what was happening. There were too many important Blackwatch missions that needed him. And he couldn’t add something new to Jack’s plate. That wasn’t his job. His job was to make Jack’s life easier. 

He gripped Jack a little tighter, felt the thrumming in his bones intensify into a throb. A small spike of pain.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispered into the dark room.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/stuffy_jj)


End file.
